War of The Cards: Orclandspiel
by RedKinoko
Summary: A chronicle of the great war fueled by the reappearance of the oldest and most powerful cards in Midgard. Orclandspiel revolves around the struggles of a battle priest as he tries to win a war of attrition against the bloodthirsty orcs of Geffen.
1. Wahid

WAR OF THE CARDS : ORCLANDSPIEL

Foreword:  
This is actually the first time that I have tried doing fan fiction. I would be more than happy to see criticism regarding my flaws. As you probably would have noticed by now, my English is not that good. I never really get to practice it in my daily activites. I try to use writing as my own way of trying to resharpen my dull sense of grammar. And as a good friend would say it: "In the name of sportsmanship, flame away!"  
  
I'm a huge fan of war stories and military books. If you know your history well enough, you will find quite a lot of events that reflect real-life events that had transpired sometime between the two world wars. I'm not trying to do a parody. I just feel that the best material for war stories can only be found in the pages of history. But let me clear up one thing first, I do not like war. I have personally been in the middle of one and I hate it as much as anybody else (if not more). War is hell, but that doesnt mean that we should forget the lessons learned by those who have made mistakes in the past, lest we commit the same ones ourselves. With that said, I just hope you'll enjoy reading this story to the same degree that I have enjoyed writing it.   
  
Clockmasters Apprentice, Redkinoko   


* * *

  
Chapter 1:   
  
Dawn lit up the uneasy camp of the invaders. It has been six weeks since their bid for total Geffen control started and they were still far from completing their plans. The restless soldiers could only look as far as they could in the greenish hell that has become of the Geffen fields. Too many of their comrades have already given up their lives in those rugged plains and yet the prize that they were hoping for seems to slip away from their reach farther each time the sun rose in front of them. Bishop Thames Wingate looked at the sunrise from his tent along with all those who were pondering at their own follies. He took a deep breath and strolled slowly towards the command post. The path towards the largest tent of the makeshift encampment was littered with suffering and agony.   
  
Thames' thoughts were deeper than the usual that morning. It all started the day Geffen Archduke Rimbaugh got killed by a single orcish arrow on his monthly territorial review trip. Finding themselves parted of their beloved leader, the whole western side of Midgard was thrown into chaos. Seeds of anger weaved its way from the lowest of peasants up to the seats of the alliance leaders. Three weeks after the incident, ten companies of the Pronteran cavalry, five companies of the Payon Free Forces, and three of the magi circles of Geffen found themselves locked in a war of attrition against the greenskin orcs in the western fields of Geffen. Meanwhile, Wingate found himself as the lead commander of the two companies of the royal cavalry assigned under the Holy Banner. Who would have thought the death of one would lead so many more to their end?   
  
" Thames, on your way to plan already?" shouted an eager voice coming from Wingate's back.   
  
The ironclad priest stopped and glanced to see who was speaking. It was a young brunette huntress who wore the traditional female armor of the war archers of Payon's glorious past. Wingate fixed his glasses. It was none other than head of the second ranger company from Payon that accompanied the main cavalry to countless battles.   
  
"Hmm? I don't reckon we've met before. But I can easily guess that you are Melina Shadowshot, lead arrow of the most notorious of Payon companies, more fondly called Payon Rose by the locals for sheer beauty amidst the harshness of warfare. And if I might say so myself, you are indeed the loveliest rose amongst the most venomous of thorns " said Wingate.   
  
Flattered, the huntress slowly approached the battle priest whose ornate armor and snow-white hair glistened with the rising sun.   
  
"It seems that our reputations precede the both of us, Thames Wingate, battle lord of the Holy Sacrament, undoing sword of the Mother Church. I'm surprised somebody as important as you would be strolling 'round these parts of the camp. So you are off to plan another skirmish, are you not? Clearly the orcish hordes are not intending to give up their grounds. " said Melina   
  
The priest stood silent for a few moments, aligned his loosely attached round glasses then faced the sun. Melina could only wonder what a bloodstained servant of the Church could be thinking in the midst of all the pain.   
  
"Yes. I fear that merely waking up a sleeping giant in attempting to retake grounds long inhabited by our bloodthirsty neighbors. But I have taken my orders from the highest commands of both the monarchy and the Church. The orcland will be ours or it will be my head on a silver platter. Nobody in this camp wants this war. I'm sure you resent this just as much. Please do tell me why Payon has taken part at this." said Wingate.   
  
"We come only to repay a debt of honor. I too would not take part in this pogrom given the choice. So we are not so different after all, Thames. But I guess we are but pawns in the game. The best we can now do is end this with the fewest possible casualties." said the huntress.   
  
The sun finally showed itself fully as it slowly painted the flatlands with crimson light. Wingate stooped down and picked up a small rock from the grounds the two were standing on.   
  
The bishop threw the stone towards the southern side of the camp. It slid along a natural gorge. "I may be a pawn for now. But that will not be the case for long. Not for long… Today, we attack where it would hurt them most. We will destroy the northern villages of the greenskins. Only then can we end this foolishness."   
  
Melina's expression changed. The gorge was not that deep nor was it too steep, but it was treacherous to go there. The watchful towers of the enemy overlooked the whole area. It was no man's land and it was the only way to reach the northern villages without overrunning the defensive lines set across the northern pass.   
  
"That gorge has death canvassed all over it. It would be suicidal to mount an attack from that area. The northern orcs maybe few but their arrows fly true and are laced with the element of damnation." said Melina.   
  
"Well milady, you are only here to fulfill a promise. We will not force you to partake in this operation. We have the element of surprise. In war, fortune favors the willing. Their arrows maybe true, but my Pneuma is more than enough. I will not fail this time or it will be the end of me." bragged the bishop.   
  
"Cocky, aren't we? Strong maybe the bond of my people to the oath but stronger is my will to spare them from the impending massacre. You will be this alone this time honorable priest." said Melina Shadowshot.   
  
"Hmmph. Do as you please archer. I will be dining in orc hero's halls tonight. And you shall be my guest of honor." said Wingate as he started walking off.   
  
Thames started signaling troops to and fro on his way to the planning tent. Another battle was coming. The thunderclouds of war started to gather. All warriors save the archers of Payon made ready their tools of war. Priests roamed all over the camp, blessing and healing as they went. It was clear to everyone that this was going to be pivotal to the war. Melina would only stare at Thames as she stayed atop the tree-lined settlement of her company not too far off the main camp.   
  
"Milady, are we not going to assist them in this battle? We could be an invaluable aid in their assault." whispered a trusted hunter.   
  
"We will not throw our lives in such a pointless exercise of folly that epitomizes this damned war. Be vigilant nonetheless, be prepared to follow my orders for only the gods now know what we will be doing." replied the Melina.   
  
Evening finally came and all preparations were completed for the assault. Swords were unsheathed, axes sharpened, arrows poison-laced. Thames the DeathPrayer, as he was fondly called in battle, mounted on his albino Pecopeco and sported a swordmace as radiant as the moon above. The men psyched themselves up with a single shot of alchol. Short chants were sang by the holy men for victory and the redemption of those who will be lost.   
  
The whole attack would be done in the cover of darkness. The northernmost camp of the alliance was lighted the same way it was the night before, but not an able-bodied soldier was left. The men took positions overlooking the bottom of the ravine. The hour of the storm came at last.   
  



	2. Ithnin

WAR OF THE CARDS : ORCLANDSPIEL

Chapter 2:   
"Lieutenant, deploy your group towards the left wall of the bluff. Make sure that our flanks are covered while we penetrate their lines from the central slope. I don't care how many men you lose. Defend it down to the last able body. We will move out on my signal." commanded Wingate while clutching his ever-sharp mace.   
  
Six companies of the Geffen-Prontera Combine positioned themselves in the various densely treed areas of the ravine. Only that of the moon's reflected shine lit the evening sky. An atmosphere of mixed anxiety and enthusiasm mingled with the tingling feeling if the cold wind blowing from the basin.  
  
" Bishop, we are ready to attack on your signal. Rangers have reported minimal activity in the orc camps. Half of the towers are active as predicted." said one of the knights coming from the ends of the communication lines.   
  
" Very well. Commence the attack once you see the grand cross. I'll be seeing you on the other side of this ravine, brave generals" said Thames. "The gods favor those who are willing to gamble their lives for their cause. Let our actions sing an ode of glory this evernight!"  
  
The knights went back to their companies. The whole place started to quiet down for the final command. The Deathprayer shut his eyes for a few seconds. And uttered a short prayer that he said each time he went to battle.   
  


"My faith is my strongest sword. I shall become  
the undoing of all who oppose the Mother Church.  
Forgive me for all blood that I shall spoil and  
redeem the souls of those who will be lost.  
Let my actions tonight be an aria of purification"  


  
  
With his final prayer finished he threw an azure gemstone in the air. The gemstone exploded in a bright light bearing the shape of a celestial cross. Slowly, men hidden between the trees that lined the lip of the gorge started moving down the slopes. The slow pacing soon sped up. Faster and faster they went down. Soon enough, an avalanche of man and beast thundered down the uncovered parts of the slopes. Leading them was a singular shadowy figure riding a white beast.  
  
It wasn't too long before the camps of the other side started to notice. One by one the lights of the towers lit up and the horns of the greenskins wailed across what would have been a tranquil night.   
  
"Now!!!" shouted Deathprayer. All at once the wizards of Geffen atop the tallest trees started bombarding the guard towers with fireballs. The night sky on top of the assaulting parties glowed bright red. After the first wave of bombardment, the orcish lines still laid silent. Fires raged across the other side and yet not an arrow answered the challenge of the wizards. Thames put on his usual smirk and rushed forth with doubled flair.   
  
The low hum of the rumbling march of the alliance was suddenly interrupted. Loud explosions bristled across the bottom of the gorge. Squads of men were literally erased by the blasts. Blood, guts and soil showered all over those who were fortunate enough.   
  
" Gobling landmines! Our paths are mined! Halt the advance!", shouted Thames' adjutant knight who was equally as startled. Shouts of orders and terrified screams of pain echoed all over with the army now nearly at the bottom of the ravine. Countless whistling sounds filled the air shortly after the blasts. Dark arrows rained down upon the stunned men, causing more deaths as they found their marks and poisoned the living spirit out of the disheartened men.   
  
The Bishop rode across the disorganized ranks of swordsmen shouting. " Do not stop! Let the clerics take care of the dead and the wounded. March on and let the clouds of Pneuma become your umbrellas. Take one step back and I shall slay you myself with the same swordmace that I use to spill black blood! " The men could only sport the look of horror and at the same time motivation as they saw the raised baroque swordmace of Thames reflecting the light of the burning trees.   
  
The march started moving forward once again. In a better tiding, fewer and fewer mines exploded. A second wave of fireballs once again rained upon the enemy camps. Shrieks of orcs in pain emanated from the far side of the towers as the waves of arrows momentarily stopped. The marching pace picked up quite a bit after the rain of death ceased. The men at the front most lines were slowly climbing up the rocky side of the ravine. Aside from a rouge arrow flying towards the attackers randomly coming out of the enemy towers, no attacks troubled the climb again. Thousands of lives were lost in that ravine, which would soon be christened the "Devil's Drop" by those who survived without wounds. Those who were even slightly wounded by the arrows started convulsing a few minutes after and not an acolyte in the whole force could do a thing to prevent the creeping death.   
  
When the forces reached the outer sides of the northern villages, all that was left was a burning inferno and disoriented orcish warriors. The orc hero of the north only known as the Arrow Breaker could not be found anywhere. Wingate fought as brilliantly as ever. And many an orc made a fatal mistake of thinking the whiteness of the Pecopeco was a sign of weakness. Soon enough, the remaining guard towers were taken down at the price of countless lives for nobody would ever survive the deadly poison of an orcish dagger or the creeping sting induced by the laced orc arrow.  
  
"Bishop Thames, " said a lead knight of another company who lead the raid to the eastern gates, which led nearest to the human camp, " the eastern gate has fallen. The guards didn't even see us coming. That which has been impeding our attack for weeks has swung open. Victory is finally ours!"  
  
Losses were high but they were not incurred as he would have expected. He lost men in all the wrong places. Bishop Wingate inspected the piles of dead orc bodies being rounded up after much of the fighting. It was almost all too easy.   
  
Another lead knight came back riding from the central parts of the villages saying, "Sire, the remote areas have been secured. This portion of Orcland is ours. But like all other companies, I have come to report that the orc hero is nowhere to be found. He must have fled to the central villages of the high orcs when they heard the deathprayer coming. Sire, the men are all tired from the fighting and we still need to give our dead the final rituals. Shall we set up camp for tonight Bishop?"  
  
The bloodstained cleric fixed his glasses once more. He sighed in an empty relief that the worst part was over. And yet something was troubling him. "Post only half of the available forces for defense of the reclaimed lands. The rest will be coming back with me to the camp, TONIGHT." said Wingate, still clutching his bloodied swordmace. With that, the rider of the white pecopeco turned his back on his fellow commanders and disappeared to the far reaches of the northern village.   
  
The gathering knights watched the bishop as he rode away. "If it were up to me, I'd stick around and prepare for the next assault. We can retake the central plains of Orcland tommorow morning if we stopped fooling around and take advantage of our position." said one of the more discontented company leaders.   
  
The eye of the storm brought calm in the hearts of all men who survived the Devil's Drop. But the stench of blood in the air put in a looming dark intuition that just won't go away.   
  



End file.
